


first date

by butmomilovemyboys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Burns, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butmomilovemyboys/pseuds/butmomilovemyboys
Summary: “I have a date tonight, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He whispered it as if she would hear him, which only made Tony laugh. “At seven. Right after this.”“God, finally. I thought you’d never ask her out.”They rounded the corner, finding themselves alone and away from the crowds. The alleyway was clear. (That really should have been sign number three.)“Whatever.” Peter crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’m excited.”“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Tony smiled. “What’s the plan? Dinner and a show? A little Lady and the Tramp action? Or maybe--”“Stop talking.”“There’s the attitude--”“No, stop talking.” Peter was rigid. He was sensing something, and the ache in Tony’s chest bombarded him.Tony blinks. He blinks, and it’s chaos.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Pepper Potts, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange
Comments: 4
Kudos: 154





	first date

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit yall i havent written for my boy peter in a HOT minute but im back baby !! have some totally canon post endgame ironfamily feels

The mission was over and done within the hour, and that should have been the first sign that something was wrong. There was an ache in Tony’s chest; a mix of anticipation and anxiety, but he chose to ignore it. That was the second sign. 

“Hey, Pete, come with me,” Tony said, motioning for Spiderman to follow. “I just want to do a quick sweep down that block.” He waved towards it absentmindedly. 

“On it!” 

He’s in a good mood today, and it makes Tony smirk. Peter’s a genuinely happy kid, but he’s also seventeen, and if Tony knows anything about seventeen year olds, it’s that their mood swings are unpredictable. So when Peter doesn’t give him any attitude, the ache in his chest dissipates, and a bit of relief replaces it. They made their way down through the street, fixing lampposts and flipping cars and helping pedestrians. (Why people still wanted to live in New York City he didn’t know. It was clearly one of the most susceptible cities for alien attacks.)

All the while, Peter was kind and quiet for the younger kid’s sake, and put on a more mature facade for the adults. It made Tony’s heart swell, though he would never admit it. 

“You’re chipper today, young Skywalker,” Tony joked. “What’s up?” 

“Chipper is a weird word,” Peter said, but there was a laugh in his words as well. “Does something have to be “up” for me to be in a good mood?” 

“Yes, because last week you snapped at me for asking if you wanted pizza for dinner.” 

“I was tired!” he argued. 

“You were being moody.” 

Peter thought about this for a moment. “Fair.” 

“So, really, what’s going on?” Tony was genuinely curious. “Is it about MJ?”

“What? No,” he said, and Tony could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “No, it’s not about MJ.” 

“I think you’re lying to me,” said Tony. “I can tell when you lie to me.” 

“That’s creepy, Mr.Stark.”

“Maybe,” he said. “C’mon, spit it out.” He nudged Peter in the shoulder. 

“I have a date tonight, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He whispered it as if she would hear him, which only made Tony laugh. “At seven. Right after this.”

“God, finally. I thought you’d never ask her out.” 

They rounded the corner, finding themselves alone and away from the crowds. The alleyway was clear. (That really should have been sign number three.)

“Whatever.” Peter crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’m excited.” 

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Tony smiled. “What’s the plan? Dinner and a show? A little Lady and the Tramp action? Or maybe--”

“Stop talking.” 

“There’s the attitude--”

“No, _stop talking.”_ Peter was rigid. He was sensing something, and the ache in Tony’s chest bombarded him. 

Tony blinks. He blinks, and it’s chaos. 

Chaos because he just closed his eyes for a millisecond, _a millisecond,_ and then there was the shout. The firing of the weapon. The cry as Peter went down, and the thud as he ungracefully hit the ground. 

“Peter!”

He fired blindly at the source. Anger is a funny thing, in this case, because anger isn’t _just_ anger at the moment. It’s protection, loyalty, and fear all wrapped up with _anger_ slapped in front of it. Tony chases the alien-- a sickly grotesque vomit-green thing, with drooping skin and bones. No doubt sent by a Thanos wannabe, or even some other powerful entity, pushing the limits for the Avengers. Clearly, this was Tony’s limit, because he doesn’t even register how fast he flies at it, his ammunition being wasted and catastrophically used on the stringy green _thing._ It falls down dead a couple feet ahead of him. 

“Tony, what the hell was that?” Steve commands through their coms, his voice edged with worry and annoyance. 

Tony can’t even really hear him. “Peter.”

“What about the boy?” That’s Thor. 

“There was one more. It got Peter.” 

Tony clambered out of his suit, not caring about the dangers anymore. The others yelled in his ears, but he didn’t want to listen to them. He just wanted to get to Peter. 

Peter had somehow army-crawled his way to the brick wall. His face was pale. He had taken his mask off, and now all Tony could see was the sweaty and ghostly way his face gleamed off the newly-lit lampposts. 

From the front, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. From the front, he just just looked stressed, tired, and pained. 

Tony exited his suit swiftly, knowing the dangers and not caring. He wanted human hands to help the kid. (Well, human _hand._ The other one was lost to Thanos. But it was _Tony._ He wanted to be Tony, not Ironman, when he approached Peter.) 

He fell to his knees by his side, cupping his face with his good hand. “Look at me, Pete. Look at me. Where--?”

“My back,” Peter wheezed. 

“Let me look at it, alright?” 

Tony carefully leaned him into his shoulder so he could see the damage. He suppressed a gag first when he saw it. It’s the smell. _Burning flesh._ It’s not a normal wound. It’s like fire. It burned away the back of the spandex of Peter’s suit, his back now exposed. And his back...Tony could puke. Layers of skin were burnt--he couldn’t tell you what kind of burns he’d have. He didn’t know. He tried to touch it, but all Peter did was yelp into his shoulder and seize in on himself. 

“Mr. Stark-- _Tony--”_ and Peter doesn’t call Tony that often, so he knew his pain tolerance was being breached. He wouldn’t be able to handle it for much longer. 

Tony pulled Peter back against the wall, watching as the poor kid winced and screwed his face up to deal with the pain. When he did open his eyes again, they were hazy and red, and they didn’t seem to really see anything at all. 

“It’s gonna be alright, yeah? We’ll get the team and we’ll get Strange down here, and he’ll fix you up, huh? So just--so just stay with me.” Tony cupped Peter’s face with both hands. “Stay with me.” 

Peter tried. He truly did, and Tony could tell. But still, his head lolled in Tony’s hands, and the grip he had been keeping on Tony’s sleeves loosened. “Can’t.” 

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Tony chided, shaking him in a way he hoped didn’t hurt. “You’ve got a lot of people counting on you.” 

He didn’t want to explain to Morgan why Peter wasn’t coming back. He didn’t want to have to tell May Parker that she had lost her whole world _again,_ this time permanently. He didn’t want to add a Spiderman hologram to their Avengers memorial. He didn’t want to plan a funeral. He didn’t want to lose a child. He didn’t--he _couldn’t._

“God, MJ is gonna kill me,” Peter said, his words playful, but his tone thin. “And don’t even get me _started_ on May and Ned.” 

“Kid?” Tony was scared. Very, very sacred. He pulled Peter into his arms, careful to avoid the growing wound on his back. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’ll give me more gray hairs.” 

Peter hugged Tony back weakly. “If you have to, tell them, okay? Morgan, too.” 

Tony knew what Peter meant, and somehow that made it worse. “Well, that’s just not happening, you know that, right?” 

“Tony, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you,” he said between gasps. Peter was weak. He was strong, but he was very weak. He was nearly liquid in Tony’s arms. 

Tony swallowed. He didn't say a word. 

He could tell Peter was smiling, but when he finally went completely limp, Tony prayed that wasn’t the last time he’d see him do that.

~

“Don’t lie to me.” 

Tony’s voice is shallow. There’s something caught in his throat. His demeanor is tight, his face is strict. He feels like if he moves an inch he might explode. 

Strange, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically soft. His eyes have bags under them, and his shoulders droop forward. He looks mentally exhausted. 

“Tony—”

“Tell me the truth, Strange.” 

Strange’s eyes flicker towards the chart in his hands. “He’s been burned bad, Stark. He’s alive, but it’s painful.” 

“I can deal with painful,” Tony responds. 

Strange’s lips made a thin line. “Perhaps...but can he?”

This startles Tony, so much so that his demeanor cracks a bit, and his mouth drops open. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this isn’t a _normal_ kind of pain because this wasn’t a _normal_ kind of weapon,” he responds, keeping his voice low. “This tech--there’s magic in it. _My_ kind of magic.” 

“But the stones are gone,” Tony says, anger veering on his voice. 

“They are, but that doesn’t mean that magic like that isn’t still out there, Tony.” 

“So...what's your plan, then?” 

Strange didn’t respond for a second. He looks like he was weighing his options. “There’s a couple ways we could deal with it, and none of them are ideal.” 

Tony gulps. “Lay it on me.” 

“One, we could wait it out, but he’s either going to be in incredible amounts of pain or not conscious at all.” Strange starts leading him down the hallway to Peter’s room. Everything is white and clean and shiny, and Tony feels like a stark contrast to everything around him. “That’s...the simplest way.” 

“I take it the other way isn’t like that?” 

Strange shook his head. “It’ll be quicker, but it could also make it worse.” Strange continues to stare at him, like he was trying to find the best route to follow the conversation. 

“Just spit it out, Strange, Jesus!” Tony completely crumbles. He’s _worried._ He wants to be able to go home _with Peter_ by the end of the week, by the end of the _day._

“Tony, I’m being cautious because you can’t make this decision in your state,” Strange responds sharply. “You want him better, we all do, but if we rush into anything, we could do more harm than good.” 

“What’s option two?” 

“Stark--” 

“What’s option two?” he says more forcefully. 

Strange stares at him again, his face hard to read. “There are spells. I know some that may help.” 

“That sounds peachy,” Tony says, looking at the ground. “But there’s a price, right?”

“Yes.” Strange opens the door to the hospital room. “Even if it succeeds, it could cause new problems, ones that we might not be able to solve. Magic is a fickle thing, Stark. It’s almost its own entity. It doesn’t like to be _controlled,_ it likes to be _channeled._ ” 

“Would it kill him?” 

“It might. Or it could paralyze him, void his mind of thought, make his burns move to a different place--there is a lot of risk.” 

Tony stares at Peter’s bed. The kid was on his stomach, his wounded back prominent against the white linen sheets and pale skin. His head was turned to the side. His whole face was smooth and lineless and white. It makes Tony’s stomach turn. 

“But if we don’t? If we don’t use magic?” 

Strange sighs. “The sedatives Banner and you made will keep him under, and I can work on treatments now, but there are no guarantees. We don’t know when he’ll wake up.” He pauses, looking carefully between Tony and Peter. “... _if_ he’ll wake up.” 

Tony’s voice hitches in his throat. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about that. He takes deep breaths and he tries to steady himself, because he _cannot_ handle that. He holds his hands together; the smoothness of the right arm against the calloused and worked one of the left. His words are stuck in his throat. 

“It’s your choice. I’ll back you up either way,” said Strange. “I’m sorry, Tony.” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry too,” he says after a moment. 

Strange grips his shoulder as he walks out, leaving Tony alone with the prone Peter. He finds himself making his way to sit in the armchair next to the bed. 

His hand moves on it’s own towards his head. He pushes back Peter’s hair from his face, trying to stop his hands from shaking. 

“Don’t let it be _if,_ kid,” Tony says. “I’m begging you.”

~

May answers on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re calling to make lunch plans.” 

“May…” 

“This isn’t a lunch plan phone call, is it?” 

“I wish I could say it was.” 

He paces up and down the linoleum hallway of the medical wing, his footsteps echoing off the walls. 

He hears May shudder a breath over the phone. “What’s wrong with him?” Of course she already has an idea. 

He goes into his scripted explanation, being careful to keep his tone hopeful and light. He knows she didn’t buy it, but he knows she’s grateful anyway. 

When he finishes, she doesn’t say anything. He just listens to her breath deeply, no doubt holding tears back. He doesn’t blame her. He kinda wants to cry too. 

“Um, Happy can, uh, pick you up if you want to come up here,” he says, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, I would,” she responds, her voice thick. “Do you...do you think he needs anything?” 

“I don’t know if he’d even notice,” and he regrets saying it as soon as he does. 

May doesn’t seem to mind or care. “Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“What-what do you think? Do you think he’ll…” She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence. 

“...That’s the other thing, May. We have some options. But neither are ideal.” He somehow has made it back to Peter’s room, much to his dismay. He wanted to be far away from there. 

“Let me guess. Either way, it’s still up in the air.” 

Tony nods. “Either we wait it out, see what Dr.Banner and Dr.Strange can do...or we take a more mystical approach.” 

“Mystical?”

“The wound isn’t human, May. It’s, in the good doctor’s terms, _magical.”_ He sat down at that same armchair. “And with him being a wizard and all, he says he might be able to do something about that.” 

May is quiet. He assumes she’s thinking it over. “What’s your take?” 

“Usually, I’d say we wait,” he says. “But...I trust Strange. And I feel like it’s worth a shot.” 

“Then do it. I spent the last five years grieving over him, Tony. I can’t do that again.” There’s rustling on her hand, probably her gathering Peter’s things. “So if you’re saying we’ve got a shot at this, _take it.”_

Tony feels his heartbeat hammer in his chest with adrenaline. “I do. I have to believe we do.”

May’s voice was full of tears. “He had a date tonight. His first real date. Laid out his clothes and everything.” 

Tony doesn’t respond. He if did, he wouldn't be able to make clear words. 

At some point, May hangs up. Tony sends Happy to whisk her up to him. 

Tony watches Peter’s mechanical breathing. The wound itself he tries to look away from. The skin around it is red like hell. The burns are bone deep, but there’s something unsettling and _wrong_ about them, like they clung to his very existence and not just his back. Maybe that’s what Strange was talking about. 

He walks in about fifteen minutes later. “Stark?” 

“Let’s do it,” he says, getting to his feet. “Bring on the magic, Dumbledore.” 

~

Lighter footsteps come running down the hallway. “Daddy!”

Morgan was dressed in her favorite overalls, which we rustled from playing and other such five-year-old activities. 

“Hey, squirt.” Tony scoops her up into his arms and twirls her around, glad for the moment of solace after such a harrowing day. “What’re you doing here?”

Pepper, and May follow in suit, each wearing a matching solemn expression. May looks like she’s been crying. 

Pepper lands a kiss on his cheek. “How is he?” 

“Strange is testing some things out. Seeing what might work. He hasn’t started anything yet,” says Tony, placing Morgan on his hip. “But the gang’s all here.” He nudges Morgan’s cheek with his own. 

“What’s wrong with Pete? Mommy won’t tell me,” Morgan says, gaining a few dry chuckles from the group. 

“Oh, you know Peter. He always lands himself in trouble,” Tony supplies, hoping she’ll accept his answer. 

But she’s his daughter, so of course she won’t. “What kind of trouble?” 

He doesn’t answer right away, because explaining to a five-year-old that her pseudo older brother got shot with a magical alien gun isn’t easy. 

Pepper takes May’s hand, leading her down the hallway. “Let’s go grab some coffee. You look like you could use it.”

That leaves Tony alone with his daughter. She tries to ask him again, but stops short when he gives her a quick look. He sits down on a bench outside Peter’s closed off room. “It’s a long story, kiddo.” 

“I like stories,” she replies. 

Tony gives her half a smile. “Not these kinds, baby.” 

“What’s wrong with him, Daddy?” She pushes on his knee while he kneels in front of her. 

“You remember when Mom and I went to that big fight? And everybody was there?” When she nods slowly, he continues. “I got pretty banged up, remember? So I had to get this?” He waved the metal hand around, flexing his fingers and pushing her hair back. 

“You got your cool arm,” she says, trailing her fingers down it. 

“Right,” Tony continues. “We had another fight today. And Peter got pretty banged up.”

“Will he get a cool arm, too?”

Tony kisses her forehead. “No, not that kind of banged up. It’s on his back, M.”

“Can I see him? He says I always make him feel better.”

Tony felt his eyes well up with tears. “Not yet, baby. You know Dr. Strange? He’s trying to fix Pete up. But it might take a long time.” 

“I don’t like waiting, Daddy.” 

“Yeah, me neither, babe. But we’re gonna have to if we want him to get better.” 

She stares down at her sneakers, like she doesn’t know the right thing to say. Tony doesn’t know either, so they stay silent for a few minutes. 

The girls return after a few more minutes. 

“I told Ned to make something up for that MJ girl’s sake,” May says quietly, one hand in her pocket and the other holding her coffee. “He’s out of his mind worried.” 

Secretly, Tony knows it’s kind of selfish of him to feel so hollow about losing Peter. It’s May who should be on the edge of a breakdown, not him, yet somehow she seems calm and collected. It took a whole year and a half before May and Tony spoke about anything, much less about Peter. She didn’t accept his invitations, and Tony didn’t blame her. She was angry at him for losing her nephew, her only living family. Tony blamed himself too. It wasn’t until Morgan’s second birthday that she brought him up, saying how when Peter was Morgan’s age, his favorite color was red, like Morgan’s was too. 

For her, it was always something. The Parker’s, then Ben, then Peter. 

Tony had lost people too, but he had Pepper and Morgan to help him through. 

He’s about to say something to her, an apology or a condolence, but Strange busts out from Peter’s room, huffing. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

~

Tony watches Strange make strange symbols and movements, but he doesn’t interrupt. His worry clouds his curiosity. The orange glow of Strange’s powers hurt his eyes, but he keeps them trained on Peter, who was still stone-like in his sleep. 

He made his wife and daughter wait in the hall, but he did ask May to join him. Should next to him, her jaw stiff upon seeing her nephew (her _son_ ) lying so still. He grabs for her hand in a comforting way, which she gladly accepts. He knew why; she wanted to hold some tangible if she couldn’t hold Peter. She wanted to hold onto something real. 

Strange’s eyes are closed and concentrated, breathing deeply as he conjures some sort of spell. 

There’s a sudden blast of energy that ripples between them all, sending shivers down Tony’s spin and the brief scent of burning in his nose. Strange holds the energy (perhaps the spell? Magic still confuses Tony) in his hands, and then slowly dissolves it into Peter’s wound. 

For a brief, cold, solid moment, Peter does not breathe. He does not move. He _flatlines,_ and Tony is already to fall to his knees if it wasn’t for the equally distraught May holding him up. 

And then, he gasps. 

Strange immediately does something else, another spell or other such magical words, and Peter’s back seems to heal itself. 

“Woah, what the hell--?” Peter says softly, shifting his arms underneath him to sit up a little. 

“Peter!” May cries, letting go of Tony’s hand in favor of helping Peter turn around. “Jesus, baby, are you okay?” 

Strange seems a bit put out, and he nearly falls back into the other armchair on the other side. Tony mouths him _thank you_ before coming to Peter’s otherside, gaining him half a nod and a sigh from the other man. 

“May? What happened?” Peter asks, flexing his fingers and stretching his shoulder. “Mr.Stark?”

“What do you remember, kid?” Tony asks, removing the tubes away from Peter’s face. 

Peter raises his eyebrows. “We just finished the mission, and we were talking about my date, and then...oh _God_. Did I miss my date?” 

Tony and May both bark out ridiculous laughs, causing a helpless look from Peter. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Ned had to cover for you,” May replies, pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

“She’s not going to be happy. She’s been waiting for me to ask her for, like, a month.” 

“You can ask her again, Pete. I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Tony offers. 

“I hope so. I don’t know _what_ Ned could have possibly come up with. He cracks under pressure,” Peter says, letting May and Tony coddle him. 

The door swung open. “Pete!” 

Morgan came running at them, ready to jump right on Peter if it wasn’t for Tony catching her mid-air and dropping her down softly. 

“Sorry. I could only keep her out there for so long,” Pepper says, a light smile on her lips. 

Morgan clammers to squeeze herself between Peter and her father. “You’re awake!” 

“Yeah, Morg, I am,” Peter says with a laugh. “No doubt because you’re here.” 

She grins wildly at him, asking a million questions about why he didn’t get a metal back, why “Mr.Strange” was being so quiet, why Peter didn’t have a shirt on, why everyone looked like they were crying, and just about anything that came to her head. 

Tony took mental snapshots. These were the moments to remember. These were the moments that made it worth it. 


End file.
